


Aftermath

by millygal



Series: SpankedBySpike's BingoCard [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 20:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11043597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/millygal/pseuds/millygal
Summary: “Not that, anything but that, PLEASE!”





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpankedbySpike](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpankedbySpike/gifts).



> Silliness&Crack. spankedbyspike put up a huge list of prompts she'd worked out for herself, and then told us we could play with them if we liked. I picked, "In the mood to cause trouble" Thanks to jj1564 for the always wonderful beta work and comments <3

Dean’s suffering some seriously terrifying and vivid flashbacks right now, and there’s nothing he can do to stop the horror filled memories assaulting his already abused senses.

The months spent as a demon still haunt Dean’s sleep, but these nightmares are attacking him in daylight, in front of a bar full of pissed off patrons, and he’s not sure how much more he can handle.

“Sammy, please, not again.”

It isn’t the blood soaked acts of violence playing behind his shut tight eyelids, nor is it the extremely drunken night spent riding a Bucking Bronco and wearing an ill advised Stetson that’s playing on a loop in his mind. It’s not even the feel of Lester’s flesh parting so very easily for the First Blade as he sunk it into the man’s podgy stomach.

“But they love me.”

No, this is much **much** worse. This is degradation in it’s basest form, and Dean’s so close to snapping he thinks he might have to engage a therapist to try and rid himself of the left-over scars.

“Sammy, they really don’t.”

As Sam stumbles drunkenly back onto the stage with the karaoke playlist book clutched tightly to his chest, Dean wonders what exactly he did to deserve **this** as a karmic reward.

Fine, sure, he was a demon who did unspeakable things, but having to relive the horror of a solid week standing on stage avoiding wadded up paper balls and glasses full of Moonshine being chucked at his head is more than any human being can reasonably be expected to endure.

The beleaguered man in charge of the karaoke machine eyes Sam like he’s the devil incarnate and sighs heavily before teeing up the song and openly sticking his fingers in his ears, whilst Dean ducks what he assumes will be one of _many_ bottles being thrown at the stage in the next three minutes.

The first few bars of a song that will haunt Dean’s every waking moment for the rest of his life filter across the bar, and he slams his head repeatedly against the table until the ringing in his ears drowns out Sam’s truly terrible singing.

“IiiiIIIII’mmmmmmmmm tooooooo seEeEEexxxXyyyyyy - “

“Not that, anything but that, PLEASE!”

It’s only as Sam begins to _remove his damned shirt_ that Dean realises he literally can’t take any more and stands, almost toppling the table with his still full beer resting on it. “Fuck this shit, I’m outta here.”

Dean walks with purpose straight out of the bar and flings himself behind the Impala’s wheel, not willing to stay and live through a Right Said Fred sponsored strip tease, but not willing to allow Sammy alone in the bar either, just in case.

As the bar door slams shut, the sound of Sam falling flat on his face - shirt sleeves tangled around his head - is music to everyone’s ears.

 

 

Fin


End file.
